


Walking through Honey

by Vigilant_Insomniac



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ableism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Autoimmune disease, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Chronic Illness, Gen, Health Issues, Human AU, Hurt, I'm dumping a ton of issues on Virgil, Maybe - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Virgil needs a hug, but they suck, hopefully relatable, patton tries to be a good friend, so does Logan, so does roman, spoonie, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vigilant_Insomniac/pseuds/Vigilant_Insomniac
Summary: He is so sick of being sick.His body is on a mean crusade against itself and he's more often than not overwhelmed by how lonely and isolating it is.Being chronically and invisibly ill is not easy for Virgil.... Or anyone really.And it doesn't help that he has to put on an act that he's fine, even around his closest friends





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: child neglect, self deprication
> 
>  
> 
> Please share your experiences, if you need a place to vent.   
> It'd feel like mutual venting, and I honestly need that in my life from people who can relate

Virgil could feel his cheeks burn as Patton scanned his face for _something_.    
  
It happened a lot lately. His friend would ask him how he was, not in a small talkish kinda way, but in a “I know you’re not doing well, talk to me” kinda way… and Virgil hated it.    
He’d always just shrug and say something non committal or just straight up lie and say he was fine…. But somehow Patton’s brows would always furrow, and his eyes would stare so deeply at Virgil that he could feel it on his skin.    
He hated lying.    
He hated pity.

He hated…. he didn’t even know what it was that made his chest feel too narrow for his heart to beat.    
But he knew, he hated that he’d become a _lying piece of shit_ \-    
_________________   
  
When Virgil was young, he didn’t know how to lie yet, or, he lacked the necessary skills to make the lies believable.    
  
Nothing a bit of practice wouldn’t change…. which he would get enough of during his life, if he wanted or not.    
  
He was part of a very small family. He lived with his mom and sister. His granny lived in walking distance. He never knew anything else and for as long as he could remember, he wished for a different reality.    
Every time his mom was late to pick him up from grade school, he sat on the sidewalk and let his mind drift. He’d stare at the oncoming cars, thinking about how the drivers might pull over and tell him they were his new parents now. He’d imagine how he would live in a house, or nicely furnished apartments like his friends did. How he would feel _full_  as he hugged his new parents. How he could go play and have fun and hang out with his friends and not second guess everything he did. He’d imagine how he wouldn't have to walk on eggshells anymore.    
  
But eventually his mom would drive up to where he sat, spouting some lame excuse why she was half an hour (or longer) late…. despite it being a 5 minute drive. Despite her being unemployed. Despite him being just a young kid that watched while everyone went home with their loving parents. Despite everything that could happen to a kid that’s alone with noone to keep out an eye.   
He’d say it was okay and they’d go home where she could go back to playing some pointless game on her old and tattered computer.    
Virgil in return would either go and play in his room alone, his sister being older and already feeling too good to play with him, or he’d sit and stare at the television.    
The older he got, the more he just slept.    
He’d get home from school, flop down on the couch and sleep while spongebob giggled in the background.    
He was still just a kid, not even a teen yet, but he felt so exhausted and tired of everything.    
His mom just called him lazy. Back then he agreed with her.   
  
\------------------------------------------   
  
It’s been a long way for Virgil to arrive at where he was in life.    
Mid twenties and the first semester of a design major had started only a few weeks ago.    
  
It wasn’t his first attempt at university. Not even his third. But he was… okay with where he was now.    
He even made friends within his classes. Good people, who, somehow enjoyed his company. Virgil didn’t even, for one second, doubt that they really cared about him as much as they cared for each other.   
  
But still... right now he played with the thought of just… removing himself from this group.    
  
He sat in his chair in the second row of a big classroom that held all the 55 students of this semester. The urge to sit in the far back and disappear behind the wall of students was huge. but his friends were all here, and he couldn’t move his seat without getting asked why.    
  
The lecture was… okay.        
Nothing he didn’t already know from his previous (attempted and failed) major. so he let his head rest in his folded arms till he eventually found himself in a comfortable lull of background noise and warmth. His hoodie and beanie shielded him from over thinking his posture, his hair, his body language.   
  
Sadly the days have grown warmer and he had to ditch his beanie more often than not, and his comfortable jacket would end up being hugged/carried in his arms as he tried not to sweat through the one layer of clothes he had left.... which got thinner, and the sleeves shorter the higher the temperatures rose. It was torture sometimes when he had a bad day and was forced to stay exposed in a fuckin’ tank top and shorts. While the people around you still managed with long sleeves and layers easily.    
But when you can feel the heat in a way that makes your stomach flip and your head go mushy, your legs shaky and your skin drip… then yea. Lesser evil.      
Today the weather luckily was shit. The wind was cold and there was a constant threat of rain. The sky was overcast and sometimes darkened so much that you’d think the night was about to fall. He loved the rain and the cold. Nothing was too hot or too bright, and people were much more quiet and mellow on bad weather days. He could let out a bit of his mood and it’d get chalked up to the bad weather. It was a blessing.    
  
  
He must have fallen asleep completely, as he jerked awake to the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Patton smiled at him… again with slightly furrowed eyebrows. “are you alright?”.   
  
“Yea... t’s all good. The teacher is just a bit boring”    
  
Patton hummed in consideration.    
  
They always had a free period in between classes, it would later be used as a chance to get more in depth feedback from your teachers, but for now, none of their subjects really demanded this, so they just hung out with the rest of the gang in the big room at the furthest end of the building. It was a nice room. full of couches and makeshift stuff that was comfortable against all expectations. It had a mini kitchen with a fridge and a kettle- stuff like that.    
  
Somehow today he just couldn’t bear the noise of the many students crowding inside. He got up with a halfhearted excuse. As he made himself a tea, he wondered where he should escape to- he decided to check the “roof” a connection between their building and the other faculty it was equipped with a few benches and plants and held a nice view.    
  
But as soon as he left the commons and turned the corner, he saw with some dread that the roof was being occupied by the smokers. He turned on his heels.    
  
After a second of thinking he realized a bit of joy that the classroom must be empty now, since everyone went out to enjoy their break   
Carefully, Virgil peeked inside and was delighted to find it empty. He sat down on a table and leaned back till he was lying on the cold surface and stared at the ceiling.    
Today was rough. He wanted to be with his friends, he wanted to talk about how he was feeling and he wanted to hear about how they were doing, but Patton and his other friends… they never ranted to him. Never. Even though he knew that they had their fair share of issues as well. But they only ever let him rant and then looked at him with so much pity. They didn’t trust him enough to listen to their troubles.   
  
  
It was just a week or two ago when Patton had told him that everyone was worried about him. Virgil then realised that, while it proved that they did care about him deeply… they also didn’t quite look at him on eye level.    
They saw him as something fragile, and vulnerable. As something that needed their help and their protection or it would crumble.    
It was that moment he realized how much he had dumped on his friends, and how little they believed in him.    
  
Yes, Virgil wasn’t doing well- but the _friendships_ he had managed to built had helped him a lot!! And now, it felt wrong. It felt as if he had lost their mutual friendship with him and only kept him around as a pity project. Even if they just wanted to help, this wasn’t his safe space anymore. Being with them reminded him of how he was a burden, of how he was broken and in need of fixing… And worst of all was that now, all he did would be analysed and searched for signs of him struggling.    
He had finally learned how to open up, how to not walk on eggshells anymore… and bam. All for nothing. He had to start tiptoeing around again. He had to smile again, even when he felt like crying. He had to think before he spoke as to not upset anyone. It was, in a way, just like back when he lived with his mom…. and it made everything go from bad to worse.    
  
He just wanted to hang out with them and vent, or joke or just listen to them as they were ranting or discussing something. He wanted to be a valued member of a group that _respected him_ and maybe even trusted him to live his life. A group that didn’t patronize him or make his anxieties go worse, because he now had to somehow avoid worrying them.    
  
He took a deep breath... still hanging around on the table in the abandoned classroom.    
Laughter rang through the door.    
  
It was a bit hard to convince himself to get back up again… somehow he still did, and it felt as if he was on autopilot. He walked over to the sink , splashed water in his face and then let it run over his wrist. Despite the weather he could feel himself overheat, and he had to cool down some way or another.   
  
Today would stretch out unbearably long- he thought as he made his way back to his group of…. friends.    
  
He felt Patton’s worried stare on his skin again, but decided to ignore it as he sat down and listened to their conversation… that had, slightly, shifted in tone after he had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have vague plans for this, but I do have plans.  
> I'll probs write this when I am not in the mood to work on "Between the Lines" which still holds priority... but my mood is ehh at best, so wuick updates to this? More likely than you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short but hey, Logan is a character in this :3 
> 
> ... past analogical? I guess?? 
> 
> do you want the next chap to be about their "relationship"? 
> 
> CW: Spiraling and implied dark thoughts towards the end.

_ Last month _

_ Dork: I came across flyers for a Nu Jazz festival, want to join me in going?  _

 

_ Last week _

_ Dork: have you lived yourself in yet? Hope your dorm mates are satisfactory.  _

 

_ Three hours ago _

_ Dork: Hey Virgil, I finally listened to the band you recommended. I really appreciate how they keep a kind of swing in their sound. You were right in your assumption that I would enjoy them. _

  
  


Virgil bit his lip as he hesitantly tried to type a reply to Logan, one of the people that he had to leave behind when he moved to attend a different university. 

Sometimes Virgil didn't want to really be in contact with his closer friends, he was feeling down and he was afraid that his mood seeped through and pushed them away. So before he only said negative stuff he preferred to say nothing at all. 

But. As it seemed to shape out, he hadn't been in the right mood in over a month now, so damned be his plan…. He only ever meant it as a short term solution anyways.

Not talking to his closer friends _at all_ anymore doesn't seem like fun.

And if it's between self inflicted isolation or being a bit of a downer…. Eh. Not that hard of a choice. 

 

He deleted a paragraph he had been typing for a while now… words are hard… talking in person was as well, but there you could make up for your awkwardness with sarcasm and body language. 

 

But man, was he grateful for Logan to be his friend. He never really pushed. He knew that sometimes Virgil needed space, and waited patiently… just now and then checking in with a new conversation prompt so when Virgil finally replied again they could talk as if there hadn't been a month or so in between. 

In person he was even more amazing. Less stiff and very easy to convince to hang out if it served a good purpose like exercise, or debates or mental health, it was fairly easy to find a reason really.   
  


When they started hanging out, they often went on smaller hikes (even though Virgil had trouble keeping up and had to get really inventive in reasons why they should take it slower) sometimes they grabbed some food that Logan had never had before, but also usually didn't enjoy…. they usually categorized it as and adventure, which at least gave them a nice memory even if they had to opt for regular pizza right after. 

  
Most of the time they sat down at the walls of a river/channel that carved a line through the city. 

There they would sit till late at night, stare at the water below or the sky above and just talk.  

They brought up random topics that lead to existentialistic debates. They were evenly matched and both had slightly different sets of values, so it always stayed interesting and never frustrating…. Plus they didn't judge each other. Not when one was being nit picky and over exact and not when the other was basically dripping with cynicism.

 

Virgil kinda missed that. A lot. He missed Debating with Logan and being allowed to talk as he thought had been so refreshing. 

 

Maybe that's also a bit why he had avoided talking to Logan. Talking to him, chatting to him, always served as a reminder of, well, Logan…. And how they weren't a bus/bike ride apart anymore. 

 

…..and Virgil honestly didn't just miss the debates and time spent… he missed Logan himself. A lot. And the city that now was so far away. 

 

He finally used that longing to gather all resolve and type out his long overdue message to his friend.

  
  


_ Virgil: hey mAh dude! Man, am I too late for the festival? That kinda sounds dope af  _

_ But Im also kinda not very fluid. Got a new part-time tho so I should have money again in like a few days!  _

 

_ And yo I told you Arctic monkeys were the shit. You gotta believe in me more :’) _

  
  


Virgil put down the phone after hitting send and felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a nervous grin. He was aware of how stupid this style of texting was, but it was a sorta inside joke he shared with only Logan since they first came in contact and it was honestly kinda fun. 

 

He realized that he was still grinning like an idiot and immediately made his face relax. Right now was not the time and place. He was sitting in a packed sub and grinning at seemingly nothing in public wasn't the best of ideas. 

 

But man, it was hard not to overflow with emotion at the thought of his friend. 

Somehow that had never changed. Not when they dated, not when they were friends. It had always been the same level of emotion to Virgil and sometimes he wondered if he did the right thing in breaking up with Logan. ….. but thinking back to the actual break up made him remember that he had in deed made the right choice. 

After all they could still be friends and that was worth just much. …. wasn't it? 

sure, they didn't cuddle anymore, since that would be weird for two bros with no romantic interest in each other, and Logan’s new partner would probs also hate that .. the new partner that got together with Logan just about a month after they “broke up”.    
  
  


And hello touch starvation. Always ready to chime in. Wonderful. 

 

Virgil leaned against the window and closed his eyes for a bit. No use in dwelling on it. He and Logan were friends. That’s what he wanted. That’s what should be the one thing that mattered.   
  
When the subway finally arrived at it’s destiny his chest felt tight but empty.  
  
  
  
He tried to think of nothing as he took the elevator to his dorm room.   
He tried to think of nothing when he saw the treetops from his window on the 8th floor.   
He tried to not think of one specific thought as he lay down on his bed with his clothes still on.  


 

The day's exhaustion washed over him and he gladly allowed himself to drift off into the void that already pulsed behind his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flare ups are aweful, but ableism is worse

Black dots swam at the edge of his vision and he had to really concentrate on the teacher in front of the class to not get distracted by the dizziness. 

The semester was coming to a close and the workload just tripled. 

And the resulting stress of it sending Virgil right into a flare-up. His anxiety spiked, his insomnia worsened, his heart constantly pumped as if he was running a marathon and all in all he felt like a raging dumpster fire. 

He was so dizzy ALL the time, and the brain fog that usually just made him trip over his words a bit, now completely blocked him creatively….. For a Design student in the middle of his final assignments of the semester? Bad timing. (even tho it's what caused the flare-up in the first place) 

But he could manage. He always did. He always put in even more effort into his stuff to make up for his body being on a warpath with it self.  
If giving 200% is what it takes to keep up with people who only have to give 50%... Then so be it. But he refuses fiercely to lag behind. And with all the extra effort he puts in, surely he wouldn't. 

Apparently though, he did. 

The class was over and he slowly picked his stuff. Being careful to breathe steadily against the nausea that the dizziness always brought with it. 

When he got up from his seat the black dots at the edge of his vision multiplied. Quickly he grabbed on to the desk and waited for his ears to stop ringing… which again: bad timing. 

"..... Have to talk" 

Virgil looks up just in time to catch that apparently his teacher had addressed him. Fuck. 

"or do you have to be somewhere?" the teacher's, Mr Graham's, voice was loud and steady and slightly demanding 

Quickly catching on and filling in the gaps, Virgil replied wearily "no, I got some time, next class isn't till in an hour" 

"Then please take a seat" Mr Graham pointed at a chair on the opposite side of the desk he sat down. 

Virgil followed the instruction and tried not to panic before he even knew what was going on. 

 

"Alright. I will cut to the chase. Virgil, I'm not impressed by your work ethic." 

 

Virgil just looked up with apparently enough confusion in his eyes to be an open book. 

The teacher went on "you might think teachers don't notice those things but you need to give us more credit. Of course we notice when one of our students suddenly stops putting in any effort into their studies…. I don't know what makes you think it's a good idea to party it up like that, but your hangovers are more than obvious and, while I normally don't butt into my students questionable hobbies, it does affect your output.  
It's as if you're barely even trying anymore."

 

There was a silence where Virgil just tried and process what he was just accused of.

"I - no, that's not- I don't party, I just-...." Virgil cringed at his less then eloquent self. 

"I don't need to hear your excuses Virgil, but I do need you to start trying."

"But… I am!" finally, words. "I'm doing the best I can…" words that don't seem to help, judging by the teacher's cold stare. 

Virgil felt a spark of defiance in him so he used it before he could think about the consequences "I'm doing my best, it's just hard at the moment because… because I'm sick." 

He didn't exactly know what he expected his teacher to say but the reply that came, nearly took his breath away. 

In a complete steady and dismissive tone his teacher found one if the worst possible replies.  
" You don't look sick."

Then and there, Virgil just… Shut himself up. 

This was a lost cause. Judging by his tone and body language, Virgil could tell that Mr Graham had made up his mind that his student was lazy and hungover and now making excuses. 

Even if Virgil went into an explanation about how he is chronically ill and not every illness is visible, he knew that whatever he said, would just be seen as an excuse. 

 

The teacher got up and spouted some more motivational insults, asked if Virgil understood, Virgil nodded, and it was over. They went their own ways and it was over.  
It was over. 

It was over and Virgil lost. 

 

He was, once again, labeled as lazy. He put in all this effort and he still couldn't compete with his classmates. Some of them LITERALLY hungover from parties that they didn't stop bragging about. 

This wasn't fair. 

Virgil's feet carried him to the most quiet place he could think of and just plopped down. 

He felt his breath hitch and his eyes burn. 

This wasn't fair . 

His cheeks became wet as his mind oh so kindly played back all those hurtful and abelist moments, before and after his diagnosis, where he just wasn't good enough.  
When he was told to try harder, be faster, to not sleep as much, to be more energetic, to be less lazy. 

Because that's what other people saw.  
Laziness.  
They didn't see his devotion to his tasks. How hard he tried and how much he accomplished. 

No it was never about what he could do.  
Apparently he was always and ever will be defined by what he couldn't. 

And how he got perceived always boiled down to laziness. 

Something in him hardened. His tears stopped and his breath evened out. 

He will show them. He will succeed and make a name for himself. Even if it's just out of spite.  
But they don't deserve to be right. He never was lazy and he will keep pushing himself. Who cares how others see him. He will not let himself be defined by THEIR perception of him. One day his hard work will pay off. He will gain something that he worked for when no one believed in him and he will be proud of it. And he will not let anyone take ANY credit for his success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always the worst feeling when you do your literal best, despite running on fumes, and it's still just not good enough.  
> I hate being called lazy 
> 
> But I honestly also really hate to explain that I'm sick, because even if you explain it in detail, since it isn't visible, a lot of times it's just seen as an excuse. 
> 
>  
> 
> At some point I stopped even explaining myself because being seen as lazy because they don't know, feels slightly better than being called lazy DESPITE them knowing.


End file.
